Horcrux
by Dawn of Erised
Summary: Does prophecy actually mean anything? Can the world hope even without Harry Potter? Or are the actions of others mere coincidental? A story where the destruction of the Horcruxes refuses to follow prophecy. The soul of a Dark Lord isn't going to follow the rules - not even in death. (Mild T - for some language and inference of death; No Slash).
1. Ring

_**Summary:** Does prophecy actually mean anything? Or are the actions of others mere coincidental? A story where the destruction of the Horcruxes refuses to follow prophecy. The soul of a Dark Lord isn't going to follow the rules - not even in death. This story follows the destruction of the Horcruxes without the aid of Harry or Dumbledore. _

_**Warnings:** Use of the word 'Bloody'_

* * *

**Burning of the Ring**

**28****th**** June 1978**

A sharp breeze whistled through the cluster of hedges, birds couldn't be seen flying overhead but they could be heard. It was a bright sunny day but the suns rays did nothing to warm his Azkaban chilled bones. He stood on a chipped paved path, looking over a rusted gate with a broken lock, into a wild garden. Amidst the weeds lay cracked and splintered roof slates. Windows weren't broken, but it was impossible to see inside due to muck, grime and no small amount of mould. A wooden door hung off its hinges, a nail stuck in the middle of a thin dark coloured stain.

The surrounding air hummed, but caused no small amount of amusement. Simple blood wards did nothing to keep out those blood related, and the stupid girl wouldn't keep him from his own house now. He wondered why she'd let the house get so dirty, but then he supposed, she had no more magic than a squib – he could only hope that she no longer pined for that horrid muggle boy. Scraping the rusted gate under the scars on his hand, which subsequently broke and bled over the gate, he was pushed the gate.

A moment of pressure was felt before it opened fully and allowed him entrance, he had to admit that this was rather strong magic. Though perhaps it hadn't been her, perhaps his dear son had come home before him. His son knew no spells of the household, so it would explain the tatters that the grand house of the Slytherin heirs had fallen into. Taking the borrowed wand he had found in an unconscious drunk's pocket, a few swift repairos had the slates rising back on the roof, a small banishing charm aimed at the door pushed it open. His magic screamed at him for this, not used to being actively used outside of Azkaban, and now being forced down a receptacle that had not been freely given, nor won over, meant that these simple spells had to be said aloud and tired him quickly.

"Girl!" Marvolo's voice rang clear, and echoed through-out the tiny cottage. As she did not answer he couldn't bring himself to shout again. The sight that greeted him inside his once grand home had momentarily shocked him. In the living room, ashes where armchairs had once been; floorboards were missing; the pots and pans had disappeared from the kitchen area; cupboard doors hung off their hinges. Only two chairs and a small table stood unscathed. The floor had been scuffed and burnt in places, blast marks showed up on the walls and there was a distinct residue of magic left over.

Marvolo moved over to a hallway behind the kitchen area. The hallway had two doors, one was his room and the other belonged to his children. Neither of whom seemed to be here. In his room it looked untouched, the bed sheets had gone, no clothes hung from the wardrobe and he'd bet his wand that the chest of drawers were empty. Bloody Ministry, robbing him dry, where'd they suppose he'd get the money to pay for all these new clothes. As he moved around to bed, the window had been smashed inwards at the top, a small vase from under the window had vanished. A priceless, gold, crystal and velvet vase from before the time of Merlin, belonging to his very first wizarding ancestors was missing. An influx of raw energy blasting down the second hand wand blasted the bed apart. Marvolo snarled, anger consuming him as he hissed several words in Parseltongue that did not exist in the English language but he felt justified in using. Someone was going to pay!

No longer able to sleep in this room, due to the lack of a bed, he moved across to his son and daughter's room. It was the smell that hit him first, dried urine, covered with bird droppings as far as Marvolo could tell. Squinting his eyes through their watering Marvolo could see several newspapers lying on the ground and the beds.

**"Daughter to the Heir of Gaunt Dies."**

**"Terror as Muggle Blasts, Destroy Wizarding Villages"**

**"Muggle Baiting on the Rise!"**

**"Gindelwald's Defeat by Albus Dumbledore"**

**"Morfin Gaunt Back in Azkaban"**

**"Lord Gaunt Set Free"**

Marvolo sunk to the floor – his daughter was dead, she had died giving birth being too ill to save herself, she had apparently been found by a few wizards as muggle nuns buried her. Marvolo did not know if his grandchild had lived on, the child would be a squib and no doubt be carrying nasty, filthy muggle blood. The child would not be acknowledged. His son, had apparently killed the family of muggles who lived a top of the big hill in their almighty manor. _Good, good riddance to bad blood_ he thought It did explain why his son had not been here to greet him.

On the floor Marvolo could feel more humming, and the same blood wards that had been around the garden were surrounding the draw in the small bedside cabinet. Quickly moving to open the draw Marvolo sneered at the runes inside written with mud. Swiping his finger across them, gaining a tiny spark as the rune magic disappeared, he reached further into the draw, pulling out a ring.

A ring that Marvolo knew. Heck this was the ring of one of his ancestors and running his hand down the ebony stone, along the engraved line. No one came. He cared for no one but himself, not even his wife had decided to visit him across the veil. Marvolo snorted, really it was unsurprising, their marriage had been a shambles and three months afterwards out popped Morfin and only his ability of Parseltongue let Marvolo know that this was indeed his son. Unfortunately the girl had been his too and had survived the cold winters despite the Dragon Pox she'd acquired because his wife couldn't afford the potions and he had been banned from Gringotts due to a caution of unlawful money handling.

He stood and moved to the living room, conjuring a chair he sat in it, casting "Fiendfyre" into the hearth and put the ring onto his finger where he fell asleep and a blackness started to rise up his hand.

**….A Short Time Later…**

Residents of Little Hangleton noticed a horrible BBQ like smell coming from what they thought had been an abandoned cottage since the man had been arrested for murder and the girl had died. Onlookers gathered as several firemen tried to put out the burning hovel of a cottage. Eventually the firemen gave up, and the fire ate up the house, starving for nutrients, before burning out.

Whereas wizards would use the house as an example, of why dark magic shouldn't be used. For as soon as you lose control the magic lashes out, destroying many in its path.

Muggles would remember it as the day a strange fire encased one house for 24 hours before burning to the ground, swallowing everything whole, before a single scream could be heard.

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_Hello, I hope this has been an interesting first chapter, I'm using this story as an excuse to explore the different ways that the Horcruxes could have been destroyed without either Harry or Dumbledore stumbling around most of Great Britain. I hope that this story will be as realistically true to the books as possible apart from the minor parts where Marvolo didn't die in Azkaban but instead burned with his own spell._

_Tell me what you think, and if you'd like to guess how I'm going to destroy the other horcruxes. _

_Thank you for reading,_

_DOE_


	2. Diary

**Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter of this story, and special thanks to the first people who sent a review and to those who added this story to their favourites and alerts. Here is the second chapter of Horcrux.**

**Warning: Please remember that in this AU Harry is dead, along with the body of Voldemort, so things may look the same as cannon but on the inside things, events and people will be very different. **

**Diary:**

_Dear parent,_

_It is of great regret that I must inform you of the closing of Hogwarts. A terrible magic has been released through the halls and classes, petrifying students, destroying the means to heal those petrified and causing panic and distress to students. Staff and Aurors alike are currently dealing with the monster that claims to be Slytherin's heir. _

_To make sure that your child/ren's education is not further disrupted we have managed to obtain permission from seven day schools across Magical Britain your child has been granted permission to further his/her tuition at _**Merlin Academy of Magic**. _This school has been chosen based on your location and child's Hogwarts academic standing. Should your child be in sixth year or above they are not required to attend the day school, and a list of tutors has been included in this letter to browse at your discretion. _

_A further owl shall be sent at the beginning of June to inform you of either the opening or continued closure of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_Regards,_

_A..P.W.B.D_

_Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore;_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin; First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Grand Sorcerer._

Albus let out a huge sigh as he finished signing his final signature, the school that the child had been accepted to changed, depending on the availability of places in each year. Thankfully, though it was bittersweet this year and the two above had half the usual number of students no thanks to the war. His first years were a large bunch, almost 100 students and there would be the same again should Hogwarts open once more in September. Many of the sixth years and up would chose tutors rather than go to one of the day schools. He simply wondered how many would return should his school open.

A crack alerted the headmaster to a tiny creature, one of 200 house elves employed at Hogwarts,

"Ah Mippy, you bring news?"

The tiny creature bowed low, nose touching her toes before she stood straight, her little apron was blue check, and a broom motif was attached to the top of it, "We is finding an entrance Mr headmaster sir. It is being behind a not picture which guards it, it is down by Mr Greasy's rooms two hands and feets doors down. We is not able to go down, it is not attached to the wards Mr Dumbledore sir."

"Thank you Mippy, please inform the rest of the elves that they are to stay in either the common rooms or the kitchens."

Mippy bowed again before leaving with another crack.

Albus turned to Fawkes, who had flown into the window and now sat on the headmaster's shoulder, his arm framed by the magnificent tail feathers framing his upper arm. Claws dug into Albus' collarbone before a flash of white hot heat clouded his senses, as soon has it occurred it disappeared, and Albus found himself outside the Potion Masters quarters.

His strides belied his true lack of confidence in this matter, several creatures would leave his students petrified in Saint Mungo's, and Albus was hoping, wishing that the emblem on his Slytherin's robes was because he couldn't think of anything else, and not because there was a huge basilisk underneath this feet.

The heavy painting creaked open only because it recognised a headmaster of the school, a long tunnel with no light past the few feet of the open painting, damp and narrow the headmaster allowed Fawkes to fly first before following him. Bones crunched underfoot, and the smell of rot and mould raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Albus was glad that the robe he was wearing was not a favourite one, rather bland for his tastes, but he didn't think that he'd be able to wear this again without seeing blood, bone fragments and wet damp around the hems.

Eventually Albus heard Fawkes squawk and then he saw a large oblong light about one hundred metres away. The floor curved to the sides, and a smooth curved floor in the middle began to swell with water and he got closer to the entrance. What he did see, made him halt his footsteps for a moment before he stumbled slightly. It was definitely a basilisk, however a gaping hole in the middle of its back, vertebrae thrown across the grand chamber, meant that the threat had definitely been stopped.

Albus strode around the basilisks tail and spotted Ginny Weasley's prone form lying face down on the floor next to the opening of the basilisk. Tom Riddle's diary lay torn and soaked in venom that no man could heal. Albus picked it up and threw it into the mouth of the basilisk, and onto the venom glands which ended up bursting, destroying the soft through tissue of the giant creature.

Turning back to Ginny Weasley he stooped down and, with strength he couldn't feel turned her over and picked her up. Fawkes flew over to them, crying into Ginny's mouth, but the venom was too great, and had burnt through her skin in large areas. Fawkes trilled softly, the sound heart wrenching in despair, before he gripped onto Albus' arm and flashed into the Hogwarts infirmary where the Weasley family were waiting for news about their daughter.

Months later, that September, Hogwarts opened and 78 new students came to be sorted, and as Albus watched over the great hall, several people missing from all four houses, those who had opted out of returning after healing, or just because there was no point coming back for one year. However the biggest difference was the lack of bright orange hair in the middle of the Gryffindor table this year.

The Weasley's had not wanted to let their children stay in a place another of their children had died in. Arthur had been adamant that he and Molly tutor the children themselves declining any help from Albus, unable to look at the Headmaster – not meaning to but placing the blame of his daughter's death on Albus' mind.

And the diary, lay in the puddle of venom still located in the basilisks own venom sacks.


	3. Harry

_Hello, here's the third chapter - possibly the saddest one yet. _

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Harry Potter was currently sat in the backseat of his uncle's car with his cousin. It was Dudley's birthday party and Petunia and Vernon had arranged for Dudley and the rest of his classmates to go to WizzKids Play area. Dudley wasn't exactly friends with all of his classmates. In fact, he possibly only had four maybe five other children who tolerated hit rudeness and found him throwing other kids around funny. However this year Dudley needed to get at least 35 presents for his birthday or he would end up throwing a tantrum even larger than the one he had last year, and Petunia being remarkably cunning had brought her son fourteen huge expensive presents, then reminded her son that with the 21 people coming to his party "Because you're my popular little dumpling," Dudley would be receiving 35 presents in total.

This had averted a tantrum which Harry had seen brewing, before he knew of this development Harry had hastily placed his uncle's coffee in front of him and began removing all of the cutlery from the table, just in case. One Week later, as Harry climbed into the back of the car, behind Dudley, Dudley had jumped out of the other door and demanded to know exactly why his party was being ruined by his cousin.

"Because we need someone to sort out the party bags, and the food and all of your presents Duddykins. So you mummy and Daddy can spend more time with you."

"But Mum! I'll be playing war with my mates. You can't play war! You're a girl!"

"Of course Popkin, mummy will stay out of you way." Vernon had grumbled, which was met with a "That Figg woman keeps asking why we never take Harry with us. It isn't normal Vernon but I won't be talked about behind my back!"

Dudley nodded, this was better – the freak would be doing chores, he'd get to run around and play war and sacrifices with the boys and girls of his class – the girls would be sacrifices cause they just cried anyway – accepting these terms Dudley clambered back onto his booster seat, Seven years might be considered too old for one, but Dudley had not yet hit his height in weight, and for a proper view out of the window he needed the boost.

Harry considered himself the mature one because of this, he after all didn't mind only being able to see the sky and tops of trees go past. Every once in a while he'd imagine he would see an owl fly past, even though it was day light; other times he would see a strange moving spiral hover before puffing out of existence. Harry didn't comment on these imaginings it wasn't often the Dursley's took him out with them. He didn't want to never be taken out again.

The only down side to no booster seat Harry could see, was that he was flung about often. The middle strap of the seatbelt wasn't very secure and the strap that went across his uncle and his aunt's chest ended up going across his face, so it was placed behind his head.

**_Horcruxes_**

On the way back from the party, Vernon had had a few drinks, but was fine to drive, according to himself. Dudley had counted each of the presents he'd received; ready to demand one from any of his guests who hadn't bought him one, Petunia had finished putting the presents in the boot, and then sat into the front seat, chatting away to Vernon about the inexpensive gifts and the awful party dresses that were present at the party.

Vernon grunted and tried to keep an eye on the road, it had started to pour down and he didn't want to end up in a ditch. Harry was keeping quiet, Vernon's face wasn't purple but a vein pulsed in his forehead, visible in the rear view mirror. Dudley had started to cry, proclaiming he was hungry and that he had only got two slices of birthday cake, and how it wasn't fair that others had taken a slice home, when he hadn't even been friends with any off them.

Eventually a sign showing services were 3 miles away consoled Dudley, as it meant more cake and an extra gift from the shop for being such a patient little soldier for his mummy.

As Vernon turned up into the slip road, he skidded on a large puddle, swerving the car and managing to flip it into a ditch, where, as if by magic, the car turned the right way up.

Silence…Then,

"Arrgghhh Mummy, my head hurts and the freak touched me, help!"

Both Petunia and Vernon scrambled from the car, Vernon pulling Dudley out of his seat, and Petunia going to pull Harry from his, until Dudley screamed "Mummy My Presents!" Petunia had hesitated until her husband turned around and said,

"We'll come back for the boy pet, let's get Dudley and his presents up to the services, I'm sure there'll be a Travel Lodge, we need to phone for the ambulance and the AA anyway."

Petunia looked from the steaming radiator and back to her son, before looking at her unconscious nephew in the back seat, his head turned towards her, pushed up against the front seat, blood spilling down his face from his ears. Nodding at Vernon – still in shock from the crash, she went and gathered Dudley in her arms, before watching the suitcase of presents being hauled by Vernon up the hill on the side of the slip road, and towards the Travel Lodge at the top.

**_Horcruxes_**

Harry's head hurt, in fact if he were honest everywhere hurt. He didn't know how, but he jnew that he had to open his eyes despite the pain. He managed, The window he was looking at had scratch marks, and mud smeared over it, the passenger side door was open, and there was a distinct smell of petrol in the air. Harry noticed that despite the smell and the smeared mud, he could feel a tacky substance on his cheek – there was no sound. He sat and turned his head quickly, he couldn't hear himself scream in pain, as white hot spikes ripped down his back, Dudley wasn't in his seat either – in fact all three doors, including the boot was open. Heavy smoke was coming from the front of the car, despite the pain, and Harry had no idea how he didn't pass out from the pain, he managed to get himself out of the car, crawling along the back seat and out through the door Dudley was sat next to.

Harry looked around, he was surrounded on all sides by grassy slopes, and no matter how loud he thought he called, he couldn't hear himself scream.

…He couldn't hear the squealing of brakes from a second car going too fast up the same slip road

…Couldn't hear the crash as the second car bounced and was flung over into the ditch

…Couldn't hear the scraping of metal on metal,

…Nor the bang that engulfed the two cars,

The last thing he did see was a flash of yellow and orange…

**_Horcruxes_**

From the top of one of the slopes, Vernon had sent Petunia and Dudley ahead, he heard the blast of petrol igniting, and the screams of a young boy engulfed in fire and flame. Vernon stopped for a single minute, before continuing towards the Travel Lodge.

The only consideration he'd ever given his nephew. And as the firemen arrived the news crew did too – the only survivors of the crash, had been up the hill to safety and no mention of a small boy with black hair and bright green eyes was mentioned.

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_Thank you for reading, thank you to the few who review and add to their favourites and alerts it means a lot. _

_See you all next week with another chapter_

_DOE_


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